by Hugh B. Long
The bridge monitor registered flashes of laser-fire from the Hrymar ships, detonating several of the mines. Laser-fire couldn’t be seen by the unaided eye, but with the sensors providing a different view of the spectrum, Broussard could clearly see dozens of laser batteries acting as point defense for the Hrymar flotilla.
The Eldee rocked as she was hit by several volleys from the enemy guns.
“Sir, shields holding, minor damage reported. They’re hitting us with high energy plasma cannons,” the combatives officer said.
“Hold your course until all mines are deployed,” Broussard ordered.
“Almost there … done. All mines deployed.”
“Helm, military acceleration, now!” Broussard ordered.
The Eldee was a fast ship, but not well armed; designed for in-system defense, and what was supposed to be, essentially police action. She was well defended with robust shields and thick armor, but lacked a warship’s offensive capability—which meant she couldn’t stand toe-to-toe with the big boys. The ship rocked and yawed sideways as she was struck again and again.
“Sir, the corvettes Helsinki and Normandy have been destroyed,” his comms officer said.
“Merde!” Broussard swore, reverting to his native French. “Have we got detailed sensor readings of the ships in the Hrymar flotilla?”
“Yes, sir, thirty percent of their ships are registering mass over five-thousand tonnes, those would indicate warships. They could also be armed freighters though. The rest are a mishmash of scout ships, small freighters and other types, sir.”
The Eldee took a few more glancing hits, but her speed was her best defense today.
“Helm, take us to our next waypoint. Let’s see how the rest of the fleet is doing.”
* * *
“Fourteen Hrymar ships out of commission, m’am, and several more with significant damage,” Willms reported. “Three of the four corvettes we deployed for mine-laying duty were completely destroyed.”
Artman winced.
Willms continued. “But we expected high losses in this initial contact.”
Artman took a deep breath. In a battle of attrition the SID would lose. They had better start to turn this around … somehow.
* * *
On the bridge of the Hrymar battleship Altan, which meant Red Dawn, Captain Mazhar sat relaxed, sporting a broad smile. The raid was going very well for him. This was the largest raid the Hrymar tribes had conducted in a century, at least. Over-Chieftain Egemen had placed great trust in him and Mazhar now felt confident he would repay that trust with victory over these humans.
“Update, Erol,” Mazhar ordered.
“Damages are higher than expected. Based on the few ships we have seen, I expect very little resistance as we continue, Captain. Fourteen of our ships have been damaged heavily, several more damaged lightly, and are under repairs. These humans must have had some forewarning we were coming,” his second in command replied.
“What leads you to say that?” Mazhar asked.
“There is no other reason these mine layers would be out this far and not near any strategic location. We will need to meet with our informants later to see which of our little birds have been talking.”
Mazhar grunted. “Once we are within three-hundred thousand kilometers of their third planet, have the fleet scatter and continue independently. Each ship will be responsible for their own raid on the planet. Advise them we will keep the Altan back to cover their return. In exchange for this valuable service, we expect ten-percent of their net profit.”
Erol smiled and nodded. “Yes, Captain, I will inform them. That is very noble of you to forego any extra honor and instead assist our ships. I am sure they will be most grateful.” What Mazhar was really doing, Erol knew, was making sure the Altan survived, should there be any unforeseen catastrophe, and he would gain far more profit by demanding ten-percent of each ship’s take. But none of the other Captains would argue, lest they be challenged by Mazhar—a death sentence to be sure. He was one of the most dangerous men on Niflheim, second only to Egemen himself, most said.
“Second!” shouted the Hrymar on tactical.
“Yes, tactical, what is it?” replied Erol.
“New contacts, sir. We have four- no, six large ships approaching. From the size of them, I would say they are battleships!”
“What?” exclaimed Mazhar. “I thought our sources said these humans had no operational battleships?”
“That is correct, Captain,” said Erol, “a handful of these small destroyers, and possibly some support from our despicable cousins, the Ljossalfar.”
“Then why do I see six battleships on our sensors? You useless piece of weasel shit!”
Chapter 20
Four small corvettes and two slightly larger destroyers, towed six of the SID’s unfinished battleships toward the Hrymar flotilla. The Unity, North Bay, Xiamen and the Perth, were half of the active system defense force for the SID. Three of their sister ships had been destroyed in the first contact with the enemy, where they had bravely placed themselves in the path of the Hrymar flotilla, knowing escape was unlikely, but making the sacrifice anyway; for their friends, their family … for Earth.
Molly Coogan, Perth’s Captain, knew the coming battle would be Humanity’s most pivotal trial. Coogan was reminded of something a Yank from the twentieth-century had said:
“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”
- Martin Luther King Jr.
Earth had been at peace for a long time, her people had not been recently tested in war; how would humanity perform, she wondered. How would she perform?
“Comms, open a channel to the Syracuse.”
“Aye, m’am,” replied her comms officer, “channel open.”
“Syracuse here,” Captain Lawrence Hendrick said, “what’s up, Molly?”
“Just checking in, sir, we have five minutes to contact. In three minutes we’ll be commencing separation,” Coogan said.
“We’re good to go. I hope you’re around next time I run out of gas, Molly,” Hendrick said with a wink.
“Yes, sir, glad to help.”
Hendrick leaned forward in his seat, as if to emphasize his next words. “And, Captain…”
“Yes, sir?”
“Good hunting out there.”
Coogan nodded. “And to you, sir.”
The Syracuse had no propulsion at all; once they separated, she couldn’t evade or retreat. Molly didn’t like leaving her like this, but her corvette couldn’t stand up to some of the larger ships in the Hrymar flotilla. Once she disengaged with the Syracuse, the Perth was ordered to fall back to Earth orbit and protect the cities.
She knew Hendrick must be an incredible man, and she wished she had gotten to know him better. He was a man who smiled and stood tall in the face of challenge and controversy. God be with you Captain Hendricks, she thought.
Hendrick had seen some action fighting pirates on Earth, but this was Molly’s first battle. She had struggled to prove herself throughout her career, always defending her competence and insisting her significant beauty was not the reason for her rapid promotion, and in fact it hadn’t been; she was brilliant and beautiful—a curse.
By virtue of birthplace, she had grown up loving the outdoors and spent countless weekends surfing Australia’s golden coast, where she was right at home with her flaxen hair and sea-blue eyes. She hoped she would get to see the ocean again.
* * *
“Two minutes to separation, sir,” said Skofnung’s comms officer.
“Thank you, O-1,” said Captain Antonio Cadena, “let’s hope this works,” he muttered.
“Open a channel to the Ottawa,” Cadena ordered.
“Open a channel, aye, sir … channel open.”
“Leaving us so soon, Antonio?” Ottawa’s Captain, Victoria Strickland, asked.
“Yes, m’am, my comms officer h
as initiated the two minute countdown.”
“Alright, Antonio, just remember not to get any funny ideas about sticking around and playing hero, ok?”
“I understand, m’am.”
“You get back and defend our cities. Besides, our battleships are going to mop these rag-tag bandits up like spilled milk on a kitchen floor.”
Cadena smiled.
“Strickland out.”
Her image on the view screen was replaced by a tactical map of the surrounding five light seconds.
“Separation in 5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1, towline disengaged,” the tactical officer said.
“Helm, military acceleration back to Earth,” Cadena ordered.
Cadena watched the Ottawa receding on his view screen as the Skofnung sped away from them. His destroyer wasn’t nearly as fast as the corvettes, so it was especially critical he depart immediately.
He watched in agony over the next few minutes as the Hrymar flotilla inched closer and closer to the Ottawa. He thought they might veer away from her, but they were coming straight at her, seemingly intent on engaging her. If they knew she had no propulsion they might just ignore her and head straight for Earth, bypassing the half-built battleships. But as it was, the Hrymar assumed these ships would just chase them down—the ruse seemed to be working.
Gungnir’s entire bridge crew, including Cadena, were on the edge of their seats.
“Contact,” said the tactical officer. The view screen kept the Ottawa zoomed in enough that the crew could watch the skirmish unfold. Several small Hrymar ships made fast attack passes at the Ottawa. They launched missiles and were firing beam weapons. The Ottawa was fighting back, and they could see her point defense laser-turrets flashing (thanks to augmentation on-screen) and destroying incoming missiles. They saw explosion after explosion, but she couldn’t stop all of them. They weren’t monitoring the Ottawa’s comms; Cadena had turned them off, as he didn’t want his crew shook up hearing any panic in the voices of the Ottawa’s crew. He knew what to expect, and this show didn’t need a soundtrack.
The silent flashes of light were thunderous and telling.
Several more of the Hrymar ships broke off the main flotilla and joined in the attack to finish off the Ottawa.
“Yes!” several of the crew cheered in unison as the Ottawa scored a solid hit with her main particle beam weapon on one of the larger attackers. The enemy ship broke into flaming pieces as the particle beam tore through it like paper. The particle-beam cannon’s minuscule particles, once accelerated to relativistic speeds, packed an awesome punch. It had a low rate of fire, but what it hit usually died.
The Ottawa’s laser turrets and missile batteries continued to pound the enemy, and several of the smaller ships were destroyed outright, or taken out of the fight.
Abruptly, the Hrymar ships stopped attacking and resumed their course for Earth. That didn’t bode well for the other battleships. The SID was counting on them to destroy a significant number of the enemy.
“Sir, several large ships are vectoring toward the Ottawa,” the comms officer said.
“No …” Cadena knew what was happening. The Ottawa couldn’t maneuver and her main particle beam cannon was a forward facing weapon, unable to move unless the ship did. Currently the Ottawa’s main gun was pointing away from the Hrymar flotilla and her smaller guns and missiles were short and medium range. Three of the largest Hrymar vessels were steering a course putting them at a ninety-degree angle to the Ottawa at long range. She was impotent at this range, and now the Hrymar knew it. In unison, three deadly beams erupted from the Hrymar ships, cutting the Ottawa to shreds. It was like someone took scissors to a piece of paper. Several large pieces of the Ottawa went floating off in different directions.
“Any lifepods?” Cadena asked the combatives officer.
“None …”
A brilliant, yet eerily silent explosion filled the view screen, and the large pieces of the Ottawa were no more, consumed in an anti-matter reactor overload.
The bridge was silent.
* * *
Artman walked onto the bridge and looked to Cadena. He closed his eyes and shook his head.
“I need a report from the other ships, are the Hrymar heading for the other battleships?” Artman asked.
On the display, the crew could see the bulk of the Hrymar flotilla vectoring straight toward Earth.
“No, m’am,” replied Gungnir’s comms officer, “they began to, then veered away a few minutes after the Ottawa was destroyed.”
Artman’s face was stolid; her mind racing through possible new tactics. “Comms, open a channel to all ships.”
“Aye, m’am, channel open.”
“Fleet, this is High Commander Artman. Our plan to delay the Hrymar flotilla proved less successful than we hoped. I’m prioritizing targets for all of our destroyers and Alfar vessels to vector in on. You will all combine fire and take out each target in turn, minimizing the time to destroy each enemy ship. Corvettes and other vessels, you will intercept all Hrymar ships attempting to make planet-fall, or that appear to be attempting bombing. We will fight to the last. We are the SID’s last hope. You must fight like the survival of our species depends on it…” she paused, “because, it does. Artman out.”
Gungnir’s comms officer looked back toward High Commander Artman. “M’am,” she said, getting her attention, “do you think there’s any chance for us to come out of this?”
Artman sat down beside Captain Cadena and eyed the officer. “It’s Stella, right? Stella Marchant? O-1?”
“Stella, yes, ma’am.”
“Stella, there is always a chance, always a reason to hope, and to keep fighting. My ancestors believed in a concept called Wyrd. It wasn’t like preordination or destiny, but a set of starting conditions. Maybe you were born with one leg, or born poor. That’s your wyrd, but poor men continue to become wealthy, the crippled continue to excel at athletics. Whatever your wyrd is, you can choose to do whatever you want in this life. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, m’am,” Marchant, said, beaming. The rest of the bridge crew also seemed to get a morale boost at Artman’s little talk.
Cadena leaned over and whispered, “That’s why you’re the High Commander.”
Artman attempted a weak smiled.
* * *
Captain Molly Coogan felt her jaw aching. She’d been clenching her teeth since the release of the Syracuse, and the Perth’s initial dash back toward Earth. Time to relax for a bit. She rubbed at her aching facial muscles.
Molly was watching the multitude of red dots on the bridge view-screen, indicating the Hrymar ships, then she heard Artman’s orders over the comm directing her to intercept enemies attempting to land on, or bomb Earth.
“Helm, military acceleration toward Earth.”
They were only a few minutes out now, and she could see a number of smaller Hrymar craft had closed on the planet. Thankfully they were all behind her. As the Hrymar neared the Perth, she picked a ship that was closest to being able to bomb Earth; might as well intercept them sooner rather than later.
“Helm, we’ll be targeting that ship,” she said, as she selected the enemy on the command tactical system, “please vector toward it, we’ll be making rapid passes. Combatives, all weapons fire when in range.”
The Perth raced toward the enemy contact, although all feeling of movement inside a starship was negated. Molly missed the rush of acceleration of the airplane trainers she’d flown at the Fleet Academy. Flying in space was highly sanitized. The only time you felt anything in a starship was when systems were damaged, and that was not something to yearn for.
Their target appeared to be an armed freighter, based on what the Perth’s sensors were telling them. She wasn’t as well armed as a warship, but one nuke could devastate a city on Earth; it didn’t take much to inflict horrendous casualties.
“Captain, the target is opening a bay door of some kind,” said her sensors officer.
A bomb bay, lik
ely, Molly thought.
“Throw everything we have at it! Beam weapons, target that bay!” Molly ordered. She held her breath as they made their first pass on the enemy vessel. Laser turrets flashed and the Perth scored two hits with her missiles, slamming into the enemy and gouging chunks out of it.
“Hits, Captain! I think we disabled their bay. They’re taking evasive action but still headed toward the surface,” her combatives officer said.
“Captain,” her comms officer said, “urgent message from Planetary Defense Force. They’re requesting we break off from our current target. There’s an incoming surface-to-air nuke.”
“Well then,” Molly said, “they can have it,” she said.
The Perth broke off from the enemy vessel and in a few seconds they watched as a high-yield nuke obliterated it. There was a flash of bright light followed by minuscule particles dispersing rapidly in a ragged cloud.
“Next target, helm. Combatives, weapons free.” She could see dozens of small ships attempting to skirt passed the defending corvettes. Many were met with more nukes streaking up from the planet’s surface.
Suddenly the Perth was rocked violently and Molly was whipped so forcefully in her chair, she momentarily lost consciousness—despite all crew being strapped into their chairs during battle.
Molly opened her eyes, feeling a sharp pain in her head. “Report!”
“Captain, we’ve lost all maneuvering and hyperspace capability. Something big hit us,” replied her engineering officer.
“How long to get maneuvering back online?” Molly asked.
“Not sure, ma’am. Give me five minutes to assess the damage.”
“Hurry!” she barked. She wondered if they’d have five minutes, although other Hrymar ships weren’t bothering to finish off the Perth. This was a double edged sword, it meant the Perth would be safe in the short term, but Earth wouldn’t.